


But be the serpent under it

by Redisaid



Series: Eventualities [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, F/F, Fucking and not talking too much about their feelings, I just love this AU a lot okay?, Smut, Sometimes you get horny with your gf about snakes and Shakespeare, Strap-Ons, What are they doing in this universe now?, like real people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26456203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redisaid/pseuds/Redisaid
Summary: Hey it's that Inevitability-verse smut y'all wanted. Just kidding. I wanted this. Mostly me. Always me.Jaina sucks at finding the proper time to ask to move in.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Series: Eventualities [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923199
Comments: 37
Kudos: 263





	But be the serpent under it

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inevitability (or a Study of Life After Death)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414819) by [Redisaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redisaid/pseuds/Redisaid). 



Jaina had taken to reading originally as something to do while she waited. Waiting for the school bus, or reading kids’ magazines in the waiting room of the doctor’s office instead of playing with the toys. Waiting sometimes, for her parents to stop fighting. Waiting sometimes, for Arthas to come pick her up from the repair shop for three straight hours while he had been off at some bar. Waiting sometimes, for things to just be as they were supposed to.

But even as her life had changed for the better recently, the habit remained. Even now, she read as she waited for Sylvanas to come home. Jaina adjusted herself on the little cushioned bench that had somehow found its way into the solarium one day. Not because she’d taken to reading in there often. Not at all. Still, she had found it one day, without any formal introduction, waiting for her--squeezed in with the ferns, her favorite plants. 

“Why ferns?” Sylvanas had asked when she first discovered that fact. “Not flowers? Fruits or vegetables?”

“You might guess the answer,” Jaina told her. “Ferns are some of the most ancient and basic plants. They are simple, yet beautiful in their complexity. And they reproduce through spores, like fungi. Fitting that my favorite plant should be close to yours.”

“Fungi aren’t plants. They’re their own kingdom.”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Sylvanas.”

Still, it had been romantic. It had been entirely too sweet. Jaina didn’t mind these gestures going understated. She realized that she preferred actions to words these days. 

Lucky for her, Sylvanas was a woman of action. Actions that came in the form of magically appearing benches and unintroduced kisses placed on the corner of her jaw while she would read or work. Her favorite meal cooked and ready for her after she got home from a long day. The TV in the family room playing nature documentaries. The stereo in the bedroom playing soothing, soft acoustic. 

“What do you think?” Jaina asked. 

The ferns nearest to her rustled with a response, perhaps.

“Should I ask to move in?”

There was no further response. Jaina looked between the various stationary inhabitants of the room. The Meyer lemon tree. The succulents on their shelf in the less humid part of the room. The little stone pond in the center, with its water lilies and bubbling filter. The gardenia that was taking over one corner. The fragrant basket of jasmine that hung from a hook on the ceiling. 

“I mean, I have more clothes here now than at my place,” Jaina elaborated.

That much was true. Her place had really become a storage space, meant to house things that were too big to cart over here in a car trip or two. Her flat pack furniture. Most of her books. 

Not the boxes. Not anymore. Those had been burned, for the most part. She’d taken them out to a forest preserve a few months back, and had herself a very illegal, but very cathartic bonfire.

“I keep my good toothbrush here.”

The motorized one. Sylvanas made fun of her for it. Jaina told her that someone with as much extra, unnecessary mass to their teeth as she had should consider such a thing. Dental health was important, after all.

But getting Sylvanas to try new things was difficult at best. She was stubborn in stupid ways--about toothbrushes and the cleanliness of her kitchen--but flexible in others that no one else had been. She knew better than to touch Jaina some nights. She knew there was no alternative to touching her on others. 

“Are you stuck somewhere? Do I need to rescue you again?”

Jaina shifted from the bench, putting her legs back down on the ground again, ready to mount a recovery mission for the subject of her questioning. 

Like Sylvanas, he didn’t usually have much to say, but he was an excellent listener.

As if cued for an entrance into this play, like an actor thrust onto the stage, Varimathras slithered out from the ferns and up the leg of the bench, right into the spine of her book, dividing the pages with his fat, scaly body. 

“He’s a chocolate,” Sylvanas had explained of him one day.

“Is that some sort of pet name?” Jaina asked.

“No. That’s his morph. He’s darker than a normal ball python,” Sylvanas went on.

“Sort of like his owner,” Jaina had teased her. “At least in spirit.”

She’d only received a little smirk in response to that. But it was enough. More than enough.

“You know,” Jaina started to scold the snake, “if you make a habit of scaring me during our little field trips, there will be less of them. I will not be the one responsible for you getting lost in the house for weeks at a time. And yes, I have heard stories of your escapades.”

Varimathras seemed unphased by this news. He slithered into the gap between the words, settling into this latest read. A memoir of an early explorer visiting Northrend for the first time. A little dry. A little adventurous. A lot over-exaggerated. But still an interesting read.

“But who am I kidding. You’re always good for me,” Jaina told him, sliding her hand out from under the book and putting it on top of the page, inviting him into its warmth. “You’re just naughty for Sylvanas.”

As if to add further evidence to this argument, the little snake slithered amicably up her arm, not even being so bold as to go into the sleeve of her blouse. If Jaina were not used to him by now, he would have tickled her neck as he hovered there, curling into his titular ball on her shoulder and pressing against the warmth of her skin. She ran hot to his cold, and he loved her for it. 

Or, at least, as much as a simple creature like a snake could. Jaina found that she liked his simpleness. Like ferns and fungi. Basal, without unnecessary complication, but beautiful.

Jaina went back to her reading, secure in the knowledge that her charge wouldn’t move much, now that he’d found a comfortable spot. Indeed, Varimathras only adjusted a little more as they waited together, draping across her shoulders so that his head rested just above her clavicles, like some sort of very fat and slightly too heavy necklace. A necklace that would flick its little tongue, occasionally. 

Sylvanas came home as usual. Little fuss and no word accompanied her arrival. Just the opening and closing of the door, the rattling of her keys, and the thumping of her bag onto the bench by the door. Jaina found herself smiling at the prospect, but didn’t bother to look up from her book.

No, let her find her like this. She would appreciate it.

Jaina, with her glasses sliding down her nose, her hair in a messy braid, in need of fixing. A snake wrapped around her neck, her feet up on the cushions. The mister for the ferns going, shrouding her in a fog of subtle moisture. 

“Aren’t you two a picture,” Sylvanas remarked as she stood in the doorway.

Jaina looked up to find her grinning.

“We’ve been caught,” Jaina whispered to the snake, sliding a hand beneath Varimathras’ head to encourage him onto her arm again. 

Only she maybe meant to be caught. Only Sylvanas was well-aware of the fact that Jaina liked to take her pet for field trips around the house, despite her warnings about his tendencies for seeking to escape and general grumpiness. Varimathras had never so much as hissed at Jaina, though, and always came back to the warmth of her hands when they went searching for him in bookshelves or in a potted plant.

Even now, the snake spilled his limbless body onto her arm obediently, balling up in her hand as Jaina used the opposite one to dog ear her book and close it. She rose, presenting the snake to Sylvanas like a trophy.

“He was providing commentary for me,” Jaina explained, leaning in for a kiss.

Sylvanas returned it, a quick and chaste peck of greeting. Still, her hand slid around Jaina’s waist. “Oh? And what does Varimathras think of...what is it today?” she asked, leaning over to spy on the title of Jaina’s book. “Expeditions in the Frozen Wastes?”

“He finds it a bit dry, but peppered with enough interesting facts to continue reading to conclusion,” Jaina informed her. “Though I suppose that’s a lot of reading for a little snake, and he should go back to resting in his enclosure.”

“I still don’t know how he’s so calm for you,” Sylvanas chuckled as she let go of Jaina’s waist and followed her as she turned out of the solarium and into the hall. “Any time I take him out, he just thinks he’s going to get to eat or that I’m cleaning his tank and he’s very offended about it.”

“I’m the fun one,” Jaina said. “For once.”

Sylvanas laughed softly at that, not objecting. She simply watched Jaina go up the stairs. 

Returning Varimathras to his enclosure was an easy enough task. He slid dutifully onto a branch, toward the heated bottom of the tank. Jaina knew exactly why he was so good for her. Warm hands. Even Sylvanas had noticed them. People always used to tell her she should be a doctor, with her warm hands.

Perhaps a reptile expert was another missed calling for her list. 

“Until next time, Vari,” she bade the snake as she sealed the lid shut, tightly. He was an escape artist, after all.

Next time was a concept Jaina was finding herself more and more comfortable with. Despite a part of her that had sworn off of committed relationships after the disaster that was her last one, a majority consensus within her was glad that Jaina was more or less settled down with Sylvanas. Well, more or less in that she had avoided talking about her as her girlfriend. That if people asked her if she was in a relationship, she dodged out of answering. And while she lived here six days a week, she had yet to change her address.

As much as she knew Sylvanas would be delighted by her even entertaining the idea of doing so, Jaina still couldn’t bring herself to ask. Thus had been the flavor of their interactions for the last week or two. Sylvanas seemed to understand there was something that went unsaid between them, but waited, patiently, ever so patiently, for Jaina to say it.

And Jaina just hadn’t yet. 

Her therapist had talked her through examining her actions. Trying to understand why she did the things she did, rather than to just get frustrated with herself. Still, it wasn’t easy. Nothing felt as easy as it once had. Jaina just felt maybe slightly more equipped to deal with it now. And when she wasn’t, she had waiting arms to fall into, and someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Did you eat?” Jaina asked as she headed back down the stairs. 

“Not since noon,” Sylvanas called from below, her voice echoing from what was probably the kitchen.

The crack of the refrigerator door confirmed that. 

“We don’t have anything to cook. Pizza and beer?” Jaina suggested.

“Pizza and beer it is.”

This was fast becoming a Friday tradition. Not the healthiest, but neither of them minded or cared enough. Still, the pizza came quickly. Jaina knew what to order now. Veggie with extra mushrooms for Sylvanas. Meatball for herself. Eating it half-sprawled on Sylvanas’ lap was another endeavor she was getting better at. Because today was one of the days where she couldn’t get enough of being touched. 

Those days were becoming more frequent than their opposites. And while Sylvanas’ had cool hands to her warm, Jaina never minded them. Perhaps she needed chilling.

“Some days, I think you’re part reptile yourself,” Jaina muttered over the ever-present murmur of the nature documentary that was playing on the screen. One they had watched many times over, and didn’t particularly care to pay close attention to.

“Oh?” Sylvanas questioned from above her--her head just short of resting on the top of Jaina’s own. 

“Your skin is always cool, and you seem to have an affinity for basking in the sun,” Jaina pointed out.

Because when Jaina wasn’t in the sun room, Sylvanas was. Usually laying right on the terracotta tiles of the floor, as if absorbing their warmth. When Jaina had asked her about it, she shrugged, citing the history of her people and their worship of an ancient sun goddess. 

Jaina liked her theory better. She took the last swig from her bottle of beer while she waited for Sylvanas to come up with some witty reply.

“I don’t make a habit of eating rats,” was what she settled on.

“Yet you keep a hefty stash in your freezer, far more than Varimathras needs,” Jaina retorted.

“So? You think I sneak out of our bed at night and defrost a few for myself? Do I gulp down whole, then, in your imagination? Or do I stir fry them? Bake them? Roast them over root vegetables?” 

Sylvanas shifted beneath her with this line of questioning, guiding Jaina up with her as she sat up higher on the couch. 

Jaina turned to face her. “My money was on braising them with mushrooms in a dry red wine.”

“Rats, I’ve been found out,” Sylvanas answered with a grin.

“Oh. I hated that,” Jaina told her with a playful shove against her chest. 

As much as her ability to choose banter over anything else commanded her to register the rest of the comment, Jaina hadn’t missed that Sylvanas had called it “our” bed. Not her bed. Not just a place that Jaina crashed at and into. Not just where she regularly reclaimed her sexuality these days. No, the word “our” had so much of a larger connotation. So much more meaning than perhaps Sylvanas meant it to.

Or maybe exactly that much.

Jaina moved her hand from where it had landed just below Sylvanas’ lapel, and slid it up along her jaw. 

“What’s this? Do you have an affinity for rat-eaters?” Sylvanas asked as that hand snaked into her hair, tangling into the base of her ponytail.

“Just one. Have you ever heard this phrase? ‘Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it’?” Jaina asked as she found the hair tie that confined Sylvanas’ platinum locks and quickly freed them from it, smoothing them away from the kink it left behind.

“Macbeth, I believe. I don’t know the Act or Scene, regrettably,” Sylvanas told her.

Jaina wasn’t surprised she knew. But she did like that Sylvanas knew these things. She liked it as much as she would have teaching her something new.

They taught each other often and regularly. It was refreshing and all together curative sometimes. Jaina hadn’t known herself to be so keen to learn the natural sciences, but she treasured every fact that Sylvanas rattled off to her as if it were coated in gold. 

“I’d be lying if I told you I did,” Jaina said. “I just like the quote. And it’s relevant, perhaps, to you.”

“Me? When have I ever given the aura of innocence?” Sylvanas asked, emphasizing this by bending to trail her lips against Jaina’s own jaw as her mouth moved to form the words.

“When you have always been both the serpent and the flower,” Jaina told her.

She turned her head to capture those lips with her own. The only part of Sylvanas that was always warm and yielding. Well, at least the only part she could access when they were both still fully clothed. 

Since their initial breakthroughs, such intimacy had ever been a part of their lives, this relationship--whatever Jaina chose to call it. However seriously she wanted to treat it. Sylvanas didn’t have to give her as much space and caution anymore. And, in fact, like a monster unleashed, unburdened and unbridled by her cage once freed from it, Jaina was now perhaps a little overzealous in her sex. In her reclaiming. 

But Sylvanas had never once complained. Night after night, she only indulged. She spoiled her rotten, in fact. And on nights where that was the last thing on Jaina’s mind, she didn’t ask for anything. Though now those nights were rare. 

Most nights, Jaina went to sleep in her arms, their chill warding off her heat, soothing delicious aches and adding to the balm of satisfaction that let her sleep as soundly as she did. She recognized that perhaps her dependence on this sexual connection was maybe not the best thing, maybe not the healthiest of coping mechanisms. But Sylvanas never judged her for that. She never told her she knew better. She let Jaina lead their dances, each and every time, until the moment when she was told to lead.

And tonight, Jaina very much wanted that. 

“Show me the serpent tonight,” she breathed against Sylvanas’ cheek, giving that order.

She could feel Sylvanas smirk into their next kiss. And the one after that. And the one they shared after they ascended the stairs together. Into the dark and comfortable bedroom that maybe belonged to both of them. Maybe. Jaina was still deciding.

She decided better when her clothes were off, she decided.

This was still a chore she performed herself, though didn’t need to go into the other room to do it now. Sylvanas turned the lights off, and with that, Jaina’s blouse went over her head. Her bra was discarded shortly after. Her slacks shimmied out of. She knew that Sylvanas would stay clothed as she waited for her. Maybe just unbuttoning a few of the top buttons on her shirt. 

Even when Jaina had been with girls before, a decade ago, before Arthas, it had been with her experimenting sorority sisters, or other drunk girls that had asked her too many questions. All femmes in high heels and makeup and smelling of trendy perfumes. She’d never pictured herself falling for a woman who wore suits and rolled the sleeves of her collared shirts up to her elbows, both for fashion and out of a nervous habit. Yet Sylvanas and her shirts were perfect for her. Her clean, woodsy soap smell. Her glasses and the gorgeous hair she held back for everyone else but Jaina, yet didn’t seem to have the heart to cut shorter. 

Not when Jaina would press herself, naked and warm as ever, against her and run her fingers through it when it was wild and free. Not when Sylvanas had one suspender off, and one still on. Her slacks sagging a bit on her left. 

She’d been watching. Jaina let her watch, now. She knew she could see a little in the dark. And she decided, now that she was naked and better for it, that she liked it.

“I see you like being the serpent?” she asked in a whisper against the skin of Sylvanas’ neck as she peppered it with light kisses. 

“Maybe,” Sylvanas answered. “Might I ask if we could try something?”

Sylvanas always asked if she wanted to bring anything new into the picture. The first time she’d gone down on Jaina, she’d been wracked with nerves, and admitted later to not asking the previous two times she’d wanted to. But it had been an informative and quite uplifting experience. One that Jaina very much encouraged many repeat performances of, and told her afterward never to be afraid to ask. 

So far, Jaina hadn’t found the need to say no. Sometimes, all it took to make her consider agreeing was just to be asked. What a thought that was?

“Of course,” Jaina told her, nipping now at the corner of her mouth as she guided the other offending suspender over Sylvanas’ shoulder.

Another reason she stayed dressed. She knew Jaina liked to undress her. Whenever Sylvanas could contain her patience enough, she let her.  
“Your interest in serpents today has been, well, inspiring,” Sylvanas told her. “Wait here?”

The last bit was undoubtedly a question. Still up to Jaina to decide the answer to. 

Her answer came in the form of a squeeze of Sylvanas’ hand as her own hand slipped down her slender body to meet it, then let it go. But that was enough for both of them. 

Sylvanas and the heat of her lips disappeared into the dark, followed by the creak of closet doors and rustling sounds. Rustling sounds that went on for a minute, maybe two. Long enough that Jaina maybe let out a noise of frustration. Barely a huff. Maybe. But she wasn’t used to delay or resistance. Though this was neither of those, at least not purposefully. 

Sylvanas returned, a warm kiss against her cheek, and an object in her hands, placed into Jaina’s. Leather. Metal. And silicone. A rather girthy piece of silicone, all things told. 

“Oh,” Jaina said. Surprised. Maybe not that surprised. Surely, Sylvanas owned such equipment. Most lesbians did. But maybe it was the size that threw Jaina off.

“If it’s not something you feel you would enjoy--” Sylvanas started, her hands still on the straps of the apparatus, ready to tug it away if it offended.

“On the contrary,” Jaina answered, “it’s something I’d very much enjoy.” 

“It’s just that...you seem to like penetration and--well, you always ask for more. I have more. I could give you more. But I’ve been, well, hesitant. Out of respect for you. Surely you know that by now, but I have to--”

“You’re rambling again,” Jaina told her, taking hold of the toy, squeezing it firmly in her fist and wrenching the whole thing from Sylvanas’ grip. She fumbled with it in the dark, trying to locate buckles and holes and familiarize herself with it when she otherwise couldn’t see it. 

“I suppose I am,” Sylvanas admitted. 

Jaina too had something to admit to, and that was defeat. There was no way she was going to put an unfamiliar harness on this woman after having not encountered one in more than ten years. But all she wanted was for her to be wearing it. 

She thrust the harness back at Sylvanas, enveloping her again once it was back in her more capable hands. Answering that with her fingers unbuttoning her slacks, rolling them off her hips and into a puddle on the floor. Those same fingers dipping past the thick elastic waistband of the boxer briefs she usually wore, grazing her beneath there, only to find a surprising amount of dampness.

“You want this so bad?” Jaina asked as she stroked along the source of that moisture. Ever so lightly. Teasing. And she knew it.

And Sylvanas shuddered in response. She loved it. She always did. As much as she drove Jaina wild in her newfound freedom, and could render her hoarse and screaming into the sheets in matter of minutes, Jaina always found herself at her most high on all of this when Sylvanas was the one squirming beneath her touch.

“I want only what will please you,” she promised as she arched toward that touch.

Jaina kept at her steady strokes with that hand as she unbuttoned Sylvanas shirt, then snapped open her front clasping bra. She bent forward, her nose caught in the curve beneath Sylvanas’ breast. She still smelled of soap and maybe a little like an aging lecture hall. Like must and mold and fungus. A little like death. A little old wood that was trying to be like a forest floor. Perfect, really. Finally, she slid those offending briefs down her long, slender legs. 

“Put it on,” Jaina told her. 

Easier said than done, as she didn’t leave off her ministrations, even as Sylvanas stepped into the harness and pulled up her legs. Even as the toy got in the way. Now that Jaina’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could tell it was pink. Maybe a light purple. These things always were. But that mattered little. Because it was in her way.

Jaina was very pleased to find that this was the kind of harness that stayed open beneath the attachment, and, once she found her way around it, kept her fingers working as they had been before.

“Mmm,” Sylvanas murmured against her. 

They were close now. So close that Jaina could feel the tip of the toy pressing up against her stomach, the silicone bending under the strain of their bodies wanting to be closer. It angled up to her navel, growing warm against her searing skin.

“You’re going to make me come before we get to the bed,” Sylvanas warned.

“Is that so bad?” Jaina asked. 

“No,” she answered rather matter-of-factly.

Sylvanas, it turned out, was quite sensitive. Perhaps that was why she was usually fine with taking the lead. But Jaina had discovered that she liked to render her into a pile of shuddering jello. That she liked how powerful it made her feel at how easy it was for her to do so. There was no fault in having too many orgasms when both partners were female, after all.

And perhaps one would remind Sylvanas that she did in fact, appreciate innovation. And perhaps that it needn’t be approached with as much caution as it had been in the past. 

And maybe that Jaina would like to know what else was in that secret toy chest she must have been hiding in the closet all this time. 

“I’ll let you at least get on the bed first,” Jaina promised, shifting her hips to further bracket Sylvanas’ leaving only room for the toy and her wrist between them as she worked her and backed her into the bed at the same time. 

Within maybe a minute of her back hitting the sheets, her shirt and bra still draping from her shoulders, Sylvanas came beneath her, hips bucking wildly a few times as she arched off the bed and breathed a few fast and desperate breaths. 

She was beautiful like this, though. Panting, with her sweat glistening in the glow of the alarm clock’s letters. Barely even 8 o’clock. Usually they managed to entertain themselves in a chaste manner for a little longer. But not today.

Not when the toy was jabbing now at the bottom of Jaina’s ribcage, warmed to her overzealous body temperature. Hot and hard and untiring even as the body that wore it beneath her struggled to ground itself. Jaina let her, drawing back her dripping hand and slicking it up the toy between them instead. 

“Fuck,” Sylvanas whispered. An academic mind, brilliant in more than one way, rendered capable of only swearing one word. 

“I like tonight,” Jaina told her, kissing her again, from one cheek on another with a few stops against her lips, of course. 

“I have...I have smaller ones, if that’s better,” Sylvanas thought to tell her even as she tried to come back to herself. 

No. Smaller would not do. Sylvanas had been correct in her assessment. As talented as she was with her fingers, Jaina was always asking her for more. Not one. Not two. Always three. And even then, she could be inclined to take more. And deeper. And harder. There was no shame to it now. No twisting, squirming violation. No. It was something instead that belonged to Jaina. A craving that demanded sating. Over and over. Again and again. It was never quite fully satisfied. But that was the beauty of it. That she could keep trying. Keep feeding the beast.

“No, this is perfect. Plus it’s warm and wet already,” Jaina pointed out. 

She emphasized that by taking the toy in her hand, slicking it a little more, and then lining it up with her own entrance. And then sliding down onto it. Maybe with a practiced ease that had a little more hitch and sting than she was used to. But it stung so good. So perfectly. 

“Fuck,” Syvlanas repeated as she felt Jaina’s hips slam into her own.

“Fuck,” Jaina echoed her with a slight laugh, then a groan as she bottomed out. “We’ve been together for what? Six months now? And you never brought up toys?”

“I hadn’t thought you’d be so...keenly interested,” Sylvanas said with an experimental roll of her hips. 

“I am so keen,” Jaina assured her, following that roll with her own, delighting in the sensation of both the toy inside her and the way her clit brushed the leather front of the harness from this angle. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Sylvanas whispered at her, taking hold of her hips, seemingly fully regaining control of her own muscles. “I should have brought it up earlier. I would have, if I knew you’d look like this riding one.”

“Shut up,” Jaina told her, not really wanting her to. But right now, it was hard to think of a proper way to express that. Not when she could already feel herself clenching around the toy, and the way that would just send wave after wave up pleasure from deep between her hips to the top of her head. 

“I’ll never shut up about it,” Sylvanas told her. She dared even to slide a hand between them, heedless of the pressure that Jaina forced on it as she ground down onto those fingers.

Those wicked, wicked fingers. 

“You always know what I want,” Jaina said as she sped up, her hips marking a frantic pace as they sought their own too quick orgasm. But there was little she could do to stop them. Little she could warrant stopping them for. After all, it was only 8 o’clock. Plenty of time for her to slow it down later. “Don’t doubt that. Don’t question it so much.”

“I only want you to be comfortable,” Sylvanas explained with kisses bitten into her shoulder. Fangs that caught on freckled skin, an equally wicked tongue that soothed any hurts they might cause.

“I am comfortable with you...so comfortable,” Jaina told her. 

So comfortable that she was sweetly on the verge of coming already. Between the slick pads of Sylvanas’ fingers working against her clit, and the toy she worked inside herself, hot and hard and unfailing despite how much her body was squeezing it. 

Sylvanas said nothing to that. Not an “I know”. Not another one of her laughs and smirks. Not even a weird mushroom fact. No, she just watched and waited, eagerly assisting Jaina to reach her peak above her.

And fuck did she ever. Jaina had never been a screamer. She thought that a tad ridiculous. But she moaned. She moaned a little too loud and a little too long with Sylvanas, but it always felt good. It felt right. She wanted her to know how good she had made her feel. How much that feeling was needed. 

Jaina moaned until she collapsed on top of her. Until the errant buttons of Sylvanas’ still attached shirt were digging into her skin. 

“Sylvanas?” she asked between breaths.

“Yes?” 

Sylvanas’ hands were all over her, holding her close as Jaina liked to be held after she came. The toy was still inside her. Jaina wouldn’t be letting it leave her for a while now, not if she got her way. And Sylvanas usually let her. What was she kidding? She always let her.

“Can I move in with you?” Jaina asked.

She looked up to Sylvanas’ eyes. The only other light besides the red letters of the alarm clock. Soft grey and blue to their crimson. A contrast beyond snakes and flowers.

“I thought you already had?” Sylvanas answered, seemingly puzzled.

“Well, then I guess I have,” Jaina laughed. Suddenly, the question seemed as absurd as the way she’d asked it, all orgasm-drunk and still trembling.

Sylvanas had never let go of her in answering. So ridiculous. This was all so ridiculous.

Jaina realized, as she was better at doing so naked and after coming very, very hard, that she had never been happier in her life than she was now.


End file.
